


Entwined

by GreendaleHumanBeing



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Will is in jail, Will's mind palace, slight daddy kink, takes place during season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreendaleHumanBeing/pseuds/GreendaleHumanBeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hearing Hannibal say, "I have huge faith in you" triggers some memories for Will, always about his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entwined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haanigram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haanigram/gifts).



> Written for Haanigram's "Daddy Loves You" challenge over on tumblr. I'm not looking to enter the contest but her prompt really inspired me and made me immediately think of Hannibal and Will's first interaction in season two. The parts about Will's past have been added and created by me.

_It’s odd_ , he thinks as he pokes carefully at the tasteless food on his platter. _And it’s unsettling_. His skin crawls and he scratches everywhere until he sees more red, angry marks than chafed, faded skin. The red lines are stark against his green jumpsuit and all he thinks of is Christmas.

But instead of the previous desire to claw his skin off, Christmas makes him want to vomit until his mind is as empty as his stomach. His early memories of Christmas are hazy and dimly lit. Presents weren’t plentiful but the small amounts of them were cherished. He remembers his fishing rod and the look of pride etched onto his father’s face for _weeks_ when he first learned how to use it. His mother had called him her little fisherman while kissing his father on the cheek with extra care.

The last Christmas he had with his father is disfigured and gloomy, as if he’s looking at it under a permanent fluorescent light. A meager meal of fish and a tense silence are at the forefront of his memory. But what he truly wants to forget are the sideways glances his father would cast at the door. He wishes he kept his eyes on his plate instead of his father.

The tranquility of his mental river immediately shifts. He pulls in his rod and waits. He sees a school of fish swim away until they’re caught in a tidal wave of knotted red rope. It crashes and he’s tangled.

It’s the same kind his father would use for his lures, the same kind he knotted with his inexperienced, pudgy fingers in his father’s work shed. He remembers his fathers voice, echoing now in the solidarity of his mind, _It’s okay, Willy. I believe in you. I couldn’t tie this one my first time either_. But this gentle, soothing tone is at odds with a whispering, ragged voice of the same origin.

The rope tightens its hold on him.

_She’s gone, Will._

_Gone._

The word repeats tonelessly until it loses its meaning completely. Until it’s tattooed on his skin as well as inside his mind.

He’s cold now; the river he’s standing in is freezing. Ice creeps up his legs as the sky above the river turns pale and milky white. The gentle calls of birds become shrill and piercing, a terrible cacophony created by an animal orchestra. The angry mating sounds are the only warmth inside of Will’s fluid mental escape.

He’s at the point in his memories where making lures becomes a singular activity. One for Will to run to when his father is silent and unresponsive. At the time he tried to replace the lost eyes (that look remarkably like his own, now) with feathers and twine. All knotted too tightly to truly come apart, and that’s what his father was, before.

He tests his range of motion and is surprised to find the rope moves with him, as a part of him instead of a physical hindrance. And he snorts, seeing his breath in the form of a frosty puff, because _of course_ he’s not physically hindered; everything in his life has been inside of his head.

If he were speaking to Chilton, this would definitely be telling of his mental state. Abandonment issues on top of Daddy Issues not to mention his strange gift for empathy, all of this enough of a cocktail to inhibit even the most decorated psychiatrist.

But Hannibal wasn’t inhibited. He was _fascinated_. And his parting words to Will echo along with his fathers until they’re whispered by the same mouth.

_I have huge faith in you, Will._

The ropes tighten again and his breathing is shallower. He feels light headed and knows he must be having a panic attack in his cell but all he sees is red twine and Hannibal saying the words his father never said,

_“Daddy loves you, Will.”_

**Author's Note:**

> bffbevkatz.tumblr.com


End file.
